


Conchita

by LilySayuri



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac, Jehanparnasse Week 2018, M/M, Other, Soap Opera Tropes, This fic is dumb, You Have Been Warned, courfeyrac and jehan's friendship, montparnasse being a diva, which is to say a diva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 22:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16463189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilySayuri/pseuds/LilySayuri
Summary: “Today my phone drew her last breath” Jehan Prouvaire announced one evening, twirling the straw into their violently pink raspberry mojito.[...]“It wasn’t a completely bad thing that she died, though” Jehan mused after a while, interrupting Courfeyrac’s intense philosophical enquiry on why there was a tiny straw in his very tall martini glass.“Oh?” he raised his eyes, surprised.“If I had her on the bus today, I wouldn’t have seen this absolutely gorgeous person who sat right in front of me”.There had been more than enough mourning for the lost phone and Courfeyrac was much more interested in finding out who the mysterious stranger was.“Tell me everything”





	Conchita

**Author's Note:**

> This was not written for Jehanparnasse week, but since it maybe fills today's prompt (beautiful) I just thought I could post it. Shout out to my very patient beta Burntblackfeathers. Thank you!  
> Enjoy

“Today my phone drew her last breath” Jehan Prouvaire announced one evening, twirling the straw into their violently pink raspberry mojito.

They looked far too calm and collected for someone whose phone had just broken, in Courfeyrac’s experience, but grief showed itself in many different ways, so he still felt compelled to utter: “Oh, no! What happened?”

“Conchita fell from my pocket while I was running to catch the bus. It was the seventh time this month”.

Anyone who had met Jehan Prouvaire at least once, knew that they gave their possessions a name, as if they were alive or some kind of pet. Sometimes it was a poet’s name like Baudelaire the fountain pen, sometimes a friend’s one like Enjolras the yellow thorned cactus, or sometimes it was a completely random name like Conchita the phone. Everyone in their group had gotten used to it and accepted it as something inevitable like Bossuet’s bad luck or Marius’ general helplessness.

“Poor Conchita,” Courfeyrac rose his glass of Cosmopolitan gloomily, “she was with us for many years and she lived her best life. We will miss her dearly. I, for one, will especially miss her broken front camera. Our selfies were always… unique”.

“And I her cracked screen. It was like looking into multiple tiny universes” Jehan rose their glass solemnly.

“The cracks were the scars from her many battles against the pavement” Courfeyrac stated gravely, already a bit tipsy. It was his second Cosmopolitan, after all.

“She didn't win this last one, though” Jehan commented, shaking their head sadly.

They toasted in silence and they both took a sip from their drink.

“It wasn’t a completely bad thing that she died, though” Jehan mused after a while, interrupting Courfeyrac’s intense philosophical enquiry on why there was a tiny straw in his very tall martini glass.

“Oh?” he raised his eyes, surprised.

“If I had her on the bus today, I wouldn’t have seen this absolutely gorgeous person who sat right in front of me”.

There had been more than enough mourning for the lost phone and Courfeyrac was much more interested in finding out who the mysterious stranger was.

“Tell me everything” he said, leaning towards them.

Jehan sighed dreamily: “They were reading Dante’s Inferno”.

_Oh, God_ , Courfeyrac thought rolling his eyes, _not again._

“Jehan, you can’t fall for anyone who reads a book” he groaned.

“But it was the Inferno! And they were so pretty!”

Courfeyrac studied them, biting lightly at his straw (which was quite useless, he had decided).

“How hot are we talking about?”

“They weren’t hot, they were _beautiful_ ” Jehan replied, indignant “They were like a painting: fair skin, raven black curls, rosy cheeks, their nose was slightly crooked, which was not a bad thing, because it made them look even more beautiful, they had strong hands with long fingers and so many eyelashes! Oh, what would I do to see the colour of their eyes!” they sighed.

Courfeyrac listened absent-mindedly to his friend’s rant, distracted by a very handsome fair-skinned, rosy-cheeked and black-curled young man who was sitting at the bar just behind Jehan and was looking very pleased with himself.

_What are the odds?_

“You know what, Jehan?” he drawled, still staring at the undoubtedly beautiful stranger who was very clearly eavesdropping with a nonchalance that Courfeyrac did _not_ envy at all “I say he’s got grey eyes”.

“How would you…?” Jehan turned to follow his gaze “Oh” they blushed.

“Hello” the stranger said with a sharp smile “I’m Montparnasse. He/him”.

“Sorry, I try to never assume gender” they mumbled, still staring transfixed at Montparnasse.

“That’s fine” he looked like he was about to say something else, but then he just asked “And you are?”

Courfeyrac wasn’t quite sure he liked this guy, he was looking at Jehan like a tiger looked at a soft and defenseless bunny. But then, he had asked for their name, even though Courfeyrac was pretty sure he already overheard it before. That must mean something.

“I’m Jehan” they said, their blush turning into determination “They/them”.

“And I’m Ja-” _wait, what?_ “Courfeyrac” he corrected himself speaking loudly, feeling a bit left out “Not that anyone was asking”.

Jehan glanced at him, but Montparnasse ignored him.

“So you think I look like a painting, huh?” he asked moving closer to them, his predatory smirk getting wider and wider.

Jehan leaned in to him and grinned, their eyes twinkling with mischief: “Yeah, I was thinking Picasso”.

Courfeyrac laughed at the absolute outrage painted on Montparnasse’s face.

All joking aside, though, Jehan had not been wrong. Montparnasse was truly beautiful, a kind of beauty that was similar to Enjolras’, but with an edge to it: if Enjolras was Archangel Michael, Montparnasse was Lucifer.

“I’m hurt” Montparnasse said in a wounded tone, putting a hand to his heart.

_You gotta give him points for the drama._

Courfeyrac was quickly getting fed up of being ignored, so he began slurping his Cosmopolitan as loudly as possible.

“I’m sorry” Jehan’s cheeky smirk suggested that they were not feeling sorry at all “Should I buy you a drink to mend my offense?”

Courfeyrac saw the pout on Montparnasse’s face quickly turning into the blinding grin of someone who had just hit jackpot.

_Great, now I’m going to be third-wheeling for the rest of the evening,_ Courfeyrac thought, clearing his throat irritably, _I should’ve hung out with Marius and Cosette instead, for what it’s worth._

“I’d rather have your number” Montparnasse murmured, charming as ever “I’d love to stay, but I have matters I have to tend to” he rolled his eyes as if leaving was the third most annoying thing in the world after crinkled shirts and crocks.

Courfeyrac was torn between wanting to shake his hand for going away or smack him in the face for being so dramatic, which would've probably been a bad idea, since he looked like someone who would stab people for much less.

“I’m sure you heard that my phone Conchita died recently” Jehan raised their eyebrows, but Montparnasse ruffled his already fashionably disheveled hair, unperturbed.

_Kudos for the poker face, really._

Courfeyrac began tapping loudly his fingers on the bar.

“But maybe I can do something about it” Jehan continued “Give me your arm”

Montparnasse obliged after a little hesitation and they got a pen out of one of the multiple hand-stitched pockets of their very colorful and bright poncho.

“May I?” asked Jehan touching lightly the cuff of Montparnasse’s perfectly fitted shirt.

“Sure”.

They rolled his sleeve and, under Courfeyrac’s incredulous eyes, they _wrote their address_ on Montparnasse’s forearm in a glittery pink. An address that happened to be also _Courfeyrac’s address_.

“Jehan, what the fuck…?” Courfeyrac hissed grabbing their arm.

Jehan shook him off with surprising ease, still ogling at Montparnasse.

“Write to me sometimes” they smiled.

“Oh my God” Courfeyrac groaned “You _have_ to be kidding me”

“Will do” Montparnasse smiled back “I’m afraid I have to go now, my friends will leave without me” he gestured towards the door where two shadows who were presumably his friends were glaring at him.

Courfeyrac couldn’t help but feel very sympathetic for them.

“Goodbye”.

“Goodbye, Montparnasse” Jehan whispered.

Courfeyrac waited the seemingly infinite time until Montparnasse had taken his eyes off Jehan and had walked out of the pub to yell: “Jehan!”

“What?” they replied, unfazed, their gaze still fixed to the door behind which Montparnasse had disappeared.

“You’ve just given him your - _our_ \- address!”

“Yeah, so?”

“Couldn’t you just give him your email for fuck’s sake?” Courfeyrac really wanted to bang his head on the counter. Or maybe _their_ head, they were the one that had gotten them into the whole situation, after all.

“Hello! I’m here!” he exclaimed waving his hand in front of their eyes. He was sick of being ignored.

Jehan finally, _finally_ turned towards him.

“But emails are so much less romantic!” they said serenely “And I want to see if he can put together a good letter”.

“Oh my God” Courfeyrac murmured in shocked horror “He’s gonna kill us in our sleep” he covered his eyes with a shaky hand.

Jehan patted him on the back.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're still here, you probably didn't mind all the soap opera tropes, Montparnasse being a diva and Courfeyrac craving attention, so thank you <3  
> Once my phone ran out of battery while I was on the subway and without anything better to do I found myself looking at the people around me and there was this guy in front of me who was just so pretty *^* So that was the inspiration for this fic.  
> About the painting thing, Grantaire would've compared Montparnasse to a Caravaggio painting (especially [this one](https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fanciullo_con_canestro_di_frutta#/media/File:Caravaggio_-_Fanciullo_con_canestro_di_frutta.jpg)) and Jehan would've definitely agreed if they had known enough about art. I think [this one](https://www.amica.it/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/timothee-chalamet-caravaggio-635x635.jpg)'s appropriate too, tho ;)  
> Thank you for bearing with me, anyone who wants to give kudos or comment will be greatly appreciated. If you do both, Jehan will come and scribble their address on you too :*  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://lilysayuri-chan.tumblr.com/)!


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